


Bustle

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Cold Weather, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27627041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: The clock said it was before six, but it was as dark as midnight outside the windows.  I felt as tired as if that were truly the time.  Written for the November 2020 prompt over on Watson's Woes.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Bustle

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Not much plot. Rather silly. And written in a huge rush. You have been warned.
> 
> Prompt: bustle

The clock said it was before six, but it was as dark as midnight outside the windows. I felt as tired as if that were truly the time. It had been a hectic day. My body ached with the lingering effects of the chill that had plagued me as I went on my rounds. Freezing rain had drenched my overcoat and left my suit clammy. Now, bundled into dry clothes and my warmest dressing-gown, slipper-clad feet next to the fire and with a cup of tea and a plate of hot buttered toast at my elbow, I was finally starting to feel warm again.

The wind drove sleet against the windowpanes. I shivered in reflex and cradled my teacup in my hands. A quiet evening in with a book and a pipe sounded ideal.

I heard the door downstairs, followed by the patter of swift footsteps taking the stairs two at a time. Holmes bustled into the sitting-room. His coat and hat were shining with wet, and two red spots colored his otherwise pale cheeks, testament to the cold outside. None of that dimmed the excitement sparkling in his eyes.

“Ah, Watson, I had hoped you’d returned. I’ve just learned of a special match set for tonight at the Haymaker’s Delight. There’s an excellent chance that the Whistler will make an appearance. If he does, we’ll be ready for him.” Holmes checked, taking in my dressing-gown and slippers with a glance. “Unless you’re not feeling well enough to go out again, Mother Hen?”

The words were casually spoken, almost dismissive, but I knew Holmes well enough to see the genuine concern behind them. That care warmed me like a glass of whiskey. “Now who’s acting the mother hen?” I set my teacup down in its saucer and rose from my chair. “A spot of amusement and a good fight or two sounds just the thing after such a grey day. I doubt the Haymaker’s Delight is as congenial as the Punch Bowl, but it should do well enough.”

“Hm.” Holmes’ voice expressed skepticism, but the sparkle returned to his eyes in full. “As you say, Doctor. I’ll just change into drier attire and we’ll be off. No need to rush, my boy, for the fellows who run the Haymaker always schedule their fights late and start them later still. We’ll have time for a sandwich and a pint before we need to find ourselves a spot at the ringside. The Cracked Anvil is nearby, and they serve some of the best roast beef sandwiches for miles around.” He glanced at me again, seemingly carelessly, but I had no doubt he saw everything. “Wear your old brown tweed if you would, and bring your walnut cane along with your bag.”

That cane was as sturdy as it was shabby, and very handy in a fight. I sighed, but already felt more energized. My book and the fireside could wait. I felt myself smiling as I went to my room to change.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted November 18, 2020.


End file.
